


Hard as Diamonds, Cold and Bright

by der_tanzer



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crippled shuttlecraft is the most useless thing in all of space, but the view is still beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard as Diamonds, Cold and Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valis2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valis2/gifts).



> Prompted by valis2 for LJ Prompty Thing I.

A crippled shuttlecraft was the most useless thing anyone could imagine. It protected them from the bone-chilling, deadly cold of open space, but not much more. Scotty was doing everything he could to get life support back online while Kirk and McCoy stayed out of his way, bundled up against the cold that was even now creeping in on them. McCoy sipped from his flask, staring morosely out the window at the hard, diamond-bright stars that surrounded them. 

He hated space. Hated it even on the building-like _Enterprise_ where it couldn’t be seen. Or felt. Here, where there was no escape from the simple fact that it surrounded them, no illusion that he was safe, it was simply unbearable. His only comfort was Jim Kirk’s warm, confident presence. But even that was small solace. He didn’t want Jim to die, too.

Scotty had no such comfort, and no help in his work. His own best friend and lover, the one man who could possibly help him get this mess sorted, was safely aboard _Enterprise_. The largest part of him was grateful for that, but the smaller, more selfish part, wished Pavel Chekov was here. If he was, they could fix this and no one would be lost.

There was no point in thinking about that, though. Best to focus on getting the shuttle going so he could rejoin Chekov at home. That made more sense than wishing the boy here, where the lights were dimming and the ice sinking inexorably into their bones. No one knew better than he how much wee Pavel hated the cold.

“You might want to slow down on that,” Jim murmured as McCoy took another drink. “Don’t you know alcohol only makes you colder?”

“I’m already cold right down to my bones,” he snapped back. “And don’t lecture me. Damn it, Jim, you’re a starship captain, not a doctor.”

“All right, all right. Can I have some, then, before you run out?”

Grudgingly, he handed over the flask.

“Just a sip, Jim. And you may as well give some to Scotty, too. He probably needs it more than we do.”

“I wouldna say that,” came Scotty’s voice from inside the console. “Probably the same is all.”

“Why don’t you take a break, Mr. Scott? Sit down and warm your hands a minute.”

“Thanks, Captain, but I really should keep at it,” he said, even as he slithered out on his back and sat up. Kirk handed him the flask and he took a hearty nip before handing it back to McCoy. As he made to return to his task, Jim stopped him with a nervous cough.

“How’s it going under there? Really?” he asked quietly, as if McCoy wouldn’t hear. “Can you fix it?”

“I don’ know,” Scotty sighed, automatically lowering his voice, too. “I’m doin’ the best I can, Cap’n.” His voice dropped to a whisper and he added, “It’s like sabotage, sir. There’s wires cut an’ switches in the wrong positions, or shut off altogether…There were an electrical fire, no doubt, but it dinna cause all this. This here were what caused the fire.”

“Damn. Alright, Mr. Scott, you just do the best you can. And remember, life support and communications have priority.”

“Aye, sir,” he said and crawled back into the nest of exposed metal and partly melted wiring. Some of the good feeling he’d gotten from McCoy’s excellent bourbon had faded under Kirk’s insultingly obvious reminder. But, as he lay on his back popping out circuits and splicing wires, he reflected that the captain could do nothing else. If all a man could do was give orders then he must give orders. Especially if all the responsibility was on his shoulders. Scotty was responsible too, of course—he alone would determine whether this shuttle was their lifeboat or their grave—but Kirk must feel worse being in charge and unable to help.

Still, the bourbon warmed him for a few minutes, driving back the cold that was beginning to paralyze his fingers. Dimly, he heard Kirk and McCoy talking together about the possibility of sabotage, whether it was reasonable for the Tojians to take such drastic measures against Starfleet over trade sanctions, but politics wasn’t Scotty’s problem. The question of how hostile Tojians were able to gain access to the craft, which was supposed to be under the guard of Starfleet Security during the negotiations, might be his problem, but not right now. 

He wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to the second craft. The one with Spock, Sulu, and the Security team aboard. Scotty hoped they got back safely, but it would strongly imply crew involvement if both shuttles weren’t damaged. Especially since the Security officer who’d flown with them had joined the other crew at the last minute. Scotty had noticed, he always noticed such things, but he suspected the captain had been thinking more about the extra space and lack of supervision. Something else that wasn’t his business.

“Will the _Enterprise_ come by lookin’ for us?” he asked without pausing in his work.

“They’ll be able to use long-range scanners, probably,” Kirk replied. “But whether the Tojians will let them get close enough to beam us out, or even use the tractor beam…” He trailed off as McCoy hit the flask again, then gently slipped it from his hand.

“Chekov won’ allow tha’,” Scotty said, meaning it as a reassurance. It certainly comforted him to know that the ensign navigator wouldn’t risk the ship just for them. And that if Mr. Spock was on the bridge and back in charge, he wouldn’t either. It was a purely logical decision and the two of them would make the right one.

“No, he probably won’t,” Kirk admitted. “But if anyone can figure out another alternative, it’s him.”

“Aye,” Scotty sighed, breathing on his hands to warm them. Then he picked up his wire strippers and went back to work.

“It’d be a beautiful view if we were at home,” McCoy said, resigned.

“Aboard _Enterprise_?” Kirk asked in surprise.

“On Earth.” 

***

Scotty worked until he couldn’t feel his fingers, and then continued until he could no longer control them, either. His tools kept dropping, once opening a gash on his forehead from which blood oozed viscously, slowed by the deepening cold. The steel deck beneath his back leached the heat from his body, and by the time he gave up, he barely had the strength to drag himself out from under the console.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” he said in a breaking voice. “I’ve done all I can. I canna do no more.”

“It’s alright, Scotty. Come on back here and warm up if you can.”

He found he couldn’t stand, but he managed to crawl over to where Kirk and McCoy sat huddled under two layers of emergency blankets. Kirk opened the blanket cover and extended one arm for him to crawl in. Compared to the freezing cold of the cockpit, it was practically a sauna. To Kirk the shivering body under his arm was a solid block of ice but he resisted the urge to move away. He was responsible, after all.

McCoy buried his face against Kirk’s neck but Scotty couldn’t take his eyes off the stars. He wanted the last thing he saw to be beautiful.

***

The next thing Scotty knew, he was opening his eyes in Sick Bay. It was warm. So very blissfully warm, he felt like he was melting. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. 

“Monty? Are you awake?”

“Pavel? Wha’ happened, lad? Are th’ captain and McCoy a’right?”

“Da, zey are fine. Ve located your shuttle wit’ the long-range scanners and Mr. Spock ordered me to fire on ze Tojians until ve could get wit’in transporter range. It vas wery close, Monty. I vas zo scared…”

“Aye, so was I, darlin’.” He squeezed Pavel’s hand, already beginning to drift away again. It was so comfortable here, the memory of the terrifying cold nothing but a tingle in his chest and fingertips. In the final moment before sleep claimed him, he marveled that Pavel’s glittering eyes were just as bright as the stars.


End file.
